


To Me, You're a Work of Art

by pointless



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Enemies to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-23 07:25:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13185189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pointless/pseuds/pointless
Summary: Simon is a creative writing student at the Watford School of Fine Arts. Baz is his pretentious, violin-playing roommate.





	1. Chapter 1

I really wish that I didn’t have the worst roommate on the face of the planet. This crosses my mind a minimum of ten times per day. This morning, it’s my first thought when I realize that Baz has decided to let me sleep in, making me late for the third time this week. Usually, I’m the one to wake up first, but I’ve been staying up later than usual due to midterms. 

“I’m not your mother, Snow,” Baz said when I approached him yesterday.

“I wake  _ you _ up every morning.”

“Well, I really wish you wouldn’t.”

Baz picked up his violin case and walked away without another word. I know better than to follow him by now. He absolutely hates when I try to follow him to his violin lessons. He has never even played his instrument around me. Occasionally, I’ll walk into our room to find him practicing, but he immediately stops to pack up his instrument and go somewhere else. I guess I can’t blame him, because I would never let him read any of my writing. 

But most people aren’t like that at Watford School of Fine Arts. Everyone loves to display their work and brag about their talent. Penny would stop anyone in the hallway to show them her videos. Yeah, they’re amazing, but it can be annoying to be surrounded by so much talent, literally everywhere around me. I would never tell Baz how insecure it makes me to see all of the amazing art that people produce at our school. He already tells me (multiple times a day) that I don’t belong at this school. 

“You’ve never even read any of my writing,” I would retort.

“I don’t need to. Just listening to you speak is enough to know. Second of all, anyone can write poetry.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Baz grabbed a random piece of graphing paper on his desk and began to write something on it. I sighed in frustration. After roughly twenty seconds, he looked up, crumbled the paper, and threw it so that it landed on the floor next to me. I leaned down to pick it up.

 

_ Snow, you are  _

_ Not _

_ Only a complete idiot, but also a  _

_ Waste of space. _

 

“Fuck you, Baz. This is the worst thing I’ve ever read.”

“Has to be better than anything written by you.”

Baz claims that I only got to Watford because my step-dad is the headmaster. And Baz talks shit on him all the time. It’s not that I like Davy at all (I really don’t, at all), but I still get defensive when Baz talks badly about him because it’s just another way of taking a jab at me. I wouldn’t be associated with Davy at all if it were up to me. Firstly, he’s a terrible person. Secondly, he isn’t my real father. I don’t even know who my real father is, but he has to be better than this. One of the nicest things about going to Watford is that it’s a boarding school. If the price I have to pay to not have a drunk man constantly yelling at me is having a git of a roommate, it’s (almost) worth it.

The biggest reason that Baz hates Davy is that his mother was the previous headmaster of Watford. He probably wishes that things were the way that they used to be, when the school was more uptight and classical. The school has always taught classical music, ballet, art, writing, chorus, and theater. It wasn’t until Headmaster Natasha Pitch died and Davy came that modern dance, film, and photography began being taught. All of the old families in the Watford community hate him for this. The school is now considered less prestigious and more liberal than it used to be. I personally think that I like the more creative atmosphere more than I would the strict and conservative ideologies. Baz says that I wouldn’t have gotten accepted by Watford in those times. Part of me agrees with him.

Baz has a wild conspiracy that Davy was the one that killed his mother. It happened in a fire when Baz was only five years old. Nobody knows how the fire started at the Grimm-Pitch house. I’m not sure what reason Davy would have had to start the fire, but I’m not completely against the idea. After all, he is an awful and manipulative person. Baz probably thinks that I haven’t seen, but he has burn marks on his back. When I first saw the pink skin, I just wanted to reach out and touch him, to try and heal him somehow. But I know that he wouldn’t ever let me, and the scars aren’t only physical. At night I hear him thrashing and turning in his sleep. I know that he has nightmares. If he wasn’t such an asshole to me, I would actually try to help him. And every time that I have tried, he only pushed me away with more insults. 

As for my own mother, I don’t have any memory of her. She passed away due to cancer when I was only a toddler. She probably only married Davy to leave behind some sort of family for me. I doubt that he even loved her. Her side of the family had a fair amount of wealth and a nice home. Davy hasn’t ever let me meet any of my mother’s side of the family. I bet there are some out there. Somehow, I just know that they would be good people. I know that my mom was an amazing person. I’m not sure which is worse: being stuck with him as my legal guardian or being stuck in the foster care system. Thankfully, this being senior year, I don’t have much longer to deal with him. 

The plan is to graduate, move into an apartment with Penny somewhere, and possibly go to college. I’m just hoping that Penny won’t run off to America to be with her boyfriend. Micah came as a foreign exchange student last year. He being in photography and she being in film, they hit it off instantly. 

Penny is always asking me to be in her short films and music videos. It’s quite annoying, considering that I’m not even in theater. The only thing I get out of it is collaborating on writing the screenplays. She also finds most of the theater kids annoying (I don’t really blame her). Penny only puts up with her roommate, Trixie, because she gets to use her for projects. Trixie and her girlfriend are always in Penny’s room, singing Hamilton songs and reciting Shakespeare. I really don’t blame her for coming in my room all the time (despite girls not being allowed in boys’ rooms. I have no idea how she gets away with it.)

I find Penny with a pile of books around her in the library. Even though Watford is a fine arts school, we still have to study the core subjects. STEM classes dramatically wreck my GPA. Penny is a genius, really, and at the top of our class (along with Baz, of course). Her eyes widen when she sees me.

“Simon! Where have you been?”

I sigh and sit across from her, also pulling out my books to study. “I slept in again. Baz still doesn’t have the decency to wake me up.”

“Why am I not surprised? Anyway, I wanted to ask you a favor.”

“Yeah?”

“Can you be in my next short film?” She gives me her large, puppy eyes and folds her hands in a begging manner.

“Do I really have a choice? And are you really never going to make friends in the theater department?”

“I’ve made it this far without any,” she shrugs. I think she’s gotten that from me. “Besides, this is a really big project grade, and all of the good drama kids have been taken by the other film students.”

I sigh from exhaustion and flip another page in my history book. “Fine. Only if I get to have a part in writing it.”

“Deal. And also…” Penny smiles nervously and puts her fingers together, avoiding my gaze. “Could you ask Baz to be in it?”

If I was drinking something right now, I would spit it out. 

“ _ What?  _ You want  _ Baz  _ in your project? Why would you ever do that?”

“I need another lead male! And he’s attractive enough for the part.” I am offended, yet not surprised by this statement. “Please? I’ve helped you so much with your core classes this year. You can put up with him for a few days of filming. He’s the easiest person to ask” 

“That’s not even fair. You’ve been helping me maintain passing grades since freshman year.” Penny is still looking at me with wide eyes. “But fine, I guess. He probably won’t say yes. And I definitely can’t guarantee that it’ll go over well.”

Penny gives me a grand smile and gets up to pack her things. “Thank you so much, Simon! You’re a lifesaver, really. I’ll see you later in astronomy, okay?”

It isn’t until she’s left the library that I realize that I never asked her what the film is supposed to be about.


	2. Chapter 2

**Baz**

When I walk into my room after our last period, I find Snow sitting on the edge of his bed. He immediately rises when I close the door behind me. I raise an eyebrow in response to his abrupt actions. He just stands there, looking at me wide-eyed and open-mouthed. If he wasn’t somehow still so beautiful while doing this, I would insult him.

“Well? Do you have something to say to me?” I demand impatiently.

“Yeah, well… well, yeah I do, but-”

“Use your words, Snow. You’re a poet, aren’t you?” I will never let Snow off the hook for being a creative writing student with the worst social interaction skills. His fists tighten at his sides.

“Can you just be patient?” Snow sighs loudly and folds his arms. “Look, this wasn’t my idea but… Penny wants you to be in her next short film.”

“And why would she ever want that?”

“Well, she asked me to be the male lead, and I agreed, but then she said that she needs another one… And you were the easiest person to ask.”

I’m not sure how I was the easiest person to ask, at all. And I don’t know what makes Bunce think that I would ever agree to helping her with anything.

“What’s in it for me?”

Snow actually looks caught off-guard by this when his face softens into an expression of confusion. Then a light goes off in his head.

“You could get extra credit!”

He's right… All of our core teachers like to give extra credit to students that collaborate outside of their own disciplines. Then again, I have above a 97% in all of my classes currently, so it isn’t like I need any help. But, Simon.... I would get to spend time with Snow. It’s probably the only chance I’ll ever get where communicating with him doesn’t end in a fight (well, I guess it still could). And of course, I love torturing myself.

“I’ll do it. But only for extra credit in Possibelf’s class.”

His face instantly breaks out into a grin, and if I didn’t know better, I would think it’s because he’s excited to spend time with me. But I’m not an idiot, so I just roll my eyes and walk over to my desk and sit down. Just then a knock sounds on our door, and Bunce walks in without a response. She’s always in our room, despite my protests.

“Why do you even bother knocking, Bunce?” I say in annoyance.

“I at least give you a warning.” She walks over to Snow’s bed, sprawling her limbs out across it as if it were her own.

“Baz said yes,” Snow says quickly. Bunce sits up and claps her hands together.

“Oh, great! That was much easier than I thought.” I scowl at her.

“I have a strict schedule,” I start. “With Swan Lake rehearsals, I won’t be free until the evenings.”

Simons mouth drops wide open. “You’re in ballet, too?!”

I roll my eyes. “No, you imbecile. I’m playing in the orchestra. Where do you think the music comes from, the sky?”

He huffs and leans back on his bed.

“Anyway, Bunce, what is this film even about?” I turn back to her.

“Well,” she starts off sheepishly, avoiding my gaze. Suspicious. “I guess it’s a story about friendship.” Oh, great.

“Wait, are you saying that Baz and I have to act like _friends?”_ Snow’s eyes are filled with terror. I glare at him.

“Don’t get too excited, Snow.” He glares back at me.

Now it’s Bunce’s turn to roll her eyes. “It’s called acting for a reason, isn’t it? I couldn’t just have you two acting like you usually do. I’d like to _avoid_ a fight on set. Besides, it’s just a short film, so you can go back to being mortal-enemies right away. Anyway, I need to go get some homework done. So I’ll see you two tomorrow on set!”

  
She then smiles and hops up, leaving as quickly as she came, and I’m left with so many questions. My biggest one is _why the bloody hell did I agree to this?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was kinda short and bad, but I just wanted to put a second chapter out. And thank you for the comments! I'm so glad that people are as interested in this trope as I am tbh


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo it's been nearly a year since I updated this! So much has happened but I hope that I can finish writing this within the next month. Thank you to the people who left supportive comments, they definitely inspired me to continue this. Feedback is appreciated :)

BAZ

“And... action!”

I have to suppress the groan rising in my throat when Bunce begins shooting the scene for the thirteenth time. The actual thirteenth time. Snow’s acting abilities are atrocious.

“Ty!” Snow calls after me and jogs to catch up. I turn around.

“What’s up, Oliver?” I do my best to put a grin on my face but my patience is wearing thin. Snow seems to be having a similar experience, as his intended expression of excitement appears more like a grimace.

We’re filming on the football pitch and nobody is around, so at least I don’t have to be embarrassed about being involved in this disaster of a project.  

I have to avoid shivering when he puts his hand on my shoulder.

“Are you going to the party tomorrow?”

“Yeah, with Elizabeth.”

“What?” His hand leaves my arm. “We go together every year.”

“Sorry, mate,” I have to try not to laugh when this line comes up, it’s just too ironic. “That was before I was able to pick up girls.”

Snow’s faces scrunches in frustration. “I- well-... you-”

Bunce sighs. “Cut. Simon, what’s wrong with you today?” 

He throws his hands into his hair, tugging exasperatingly.   

“I’m sorry, Pen, I don’t know. I just can’t focus today.” 

“Clearly,” I huff and cross my arms. 

Snow turns his head to glare at me. “It’s probably because you’re here, Baz” 

Despite him spitting out the words with pure loathing, my stomach flutters at the idea of Snow being flustered by my presence. I roll my eyes. 

“And I thought you were an experienced actor by now, after running around and doing all of these little projects with Bunce. I shouldn’t be surprised that your acting is about as good as your penmanship.” 

Snow growls, and it seems that he’s close to pouncing on me, and I’m ready, but Bunce steps between us. 

“ _Boys.”_ She puts a hand on Snow’s chest. She turns to give me a hard look. “We don’t have much time to do this. And it’ll be over sooner if you just learn how to stop acting like children.” she sighs, putting her hand over her eyes. “We’ll finish this scene tomorrow.”  

Without another word I head back to the music wing of the school, leaving the two of them bickering as Bunce gathers her equipment. I need to practice violin to clear my head as I usually do when anything goes down with Snow. I could just back out of this whole project and make my life much easier, but my masochistic tendencies always take the lead when it comes to Snow. As bothersome as it is to deal with his forgotten lines and his poor acting abilities and his clear, burning hatred for me, I can’t help but stay. That’s always how it is with Snow. Even when everything is on fire, I can’t help but stay to see what remains when the flames have cleared.

SIMON

I throw my stuff onto my desk and hastily grab the first paper I see and start writing. Baz is probably practicing violin right now. Thank snakes for that, I don’t think I could put up with him for another minute. I don’t know what it is about Baz. I just can’t think properly when he’s around. Why does he _always_ go for the lowest blow? He insults my writing nearly every day, and he hasn’t even read any of it. I could insult his musical abilities, but the tosser is probably amazing at that as he is everything else.

I groan and thud my head against my desk. The most disappointing thing is that there was some sort of hope in me that Baz and I could learn to get along better through this whole thing. Clearly, that isn’t happening, and I was an idiot to think Baz would be interested in anything even close to friendship with me. I know he hates Davy, and maybe I leave clothes on the floor of our room sometimes, but it doesn’t seem like solid ground for hating someone.

My hand lets go of the pen and I stand to take a shower. I need to clear my head of Baz. That’s never worked before, though.

BAZ

When I return to our room, I’m greeted by freezing air coming through the window. If he weren’t in the shower I might’ve fussed about it and made our situation even worse, but he is, so I just close it myself. When I do so, a large gust of wind comes into our room, sending Snow’s papers flying off of his desk. I sigh and get down to pick up the papers. I notice Snow’s scribbled writing on one paper and barely make out the words as I’m putting it back on his desk.

_You are a police siren._

_I can never ignore you,_

_I will never get used to you,_

_It never stops being painful._  

I feel sick in my stomach for reading something that seems personal, even if by accident. But before I can step away, the bathroom door flies open and I turn to watch as Snow realizes what’s going on.

SIMON

“What the _fuck_ are you doing with my shit, Baz?” I don’t remember moving, but next thing I know I’m standing right in front of Baz, tearing the paper from his hand. I scan my eyes over the page and realize it’s what I had just written about him.  

“They fell off your desk and I-” Baz starts but I interrupt. He almost looks afraid of me. I’ve never seen Baz look anything but condescending. 

“Stop.” I feel sick. I’m so angry- _so infuriated_ that I can feel tears welling up behind my eyes. If I wasn’t so embarrassed, I’d probably be beating the shit out of him right now. I just avoid eye contact and keep my gaze on the floor. “ _Just_ \- don’t say anything.” 

He’s silent. I push him -much more softly than I’m capable of; much more softly than I should- out of the way. 

“Just don’t touch my shit again.” 

Baz goes into the bathroom without a word as I climb into bed, turning my lamp off. The tosser closed the window. I’m too tired to get up and fix it, though. I’m nearly asleep by the time he comes out and gets into his own bed. We lay in silence for a few moments before he speaks up. 

“I thought it was good, by the way. Your writing.” 

I don’t respond. I feel my mouth twitch into a small smile. I close my eyes.


End file.
